


Captain

by stardropdream



Series: Captain Porthos du Vallon of the King's Musketeers [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5710159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, I like the office,” Aramis says with a wide smile, turning to look at Porthos and leaning back against the desk with one lift of his eyebrows. (post season 2 <strike>kind of</strike>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for the prompt of Aramis calling Porthos "sir" in bed. 
> 
> I kind of used this prompt for ~~my own self-indulgent semi-AU~~ a chance to play around with an AU idea of Porthos being appointed as captain at the end of season 2, instead of Athos.

“Oh, I like the office,” Aramis says with a wide smile, turning to look at Porthos and leaning back against the desk with one lift of his eyebrows. 

Porthos snorts, looking around the office with a shrug. “It isn’t as if we haven’t been in the captain’s office before.”

“Oh true,” Aramis agrees, reaches out, tugs on the string of Porthos’ cloak to coax him closer. Porthos laughs again and steps into his space, humming out thoughtfully as Aramis tilts his head, lingering close to him but not closing the distance. He breathes out, “But that was before it was _your_ office, _Captain._ ”

Porthos snorts out again, still soft and disbelieving, still not believing himself worthy of it when there are few men Aramis can imagine being worthier than Porthos. He slides his hand down his chest, resting at his belt and tugging closer again. Porthos breathes out and tries to close the distance, to kiss Aramis, but Aramis ducks his head instead, nuzzling up against his jaw.

“So forward, sir,” Aramis teases, laughing, hands settling at Porthos’ hips. “You aren’t even going to give me the grand tour?” 

“How am I the forward one here?” Porthos says, not truly angry as he starts to laugh, even as Aramis nuzzles at his neck. He hums out, running his hand down Aramis’ back. “Alright, a tour. I can do that.” 

“Oh yes?” Aramis asks, grinning. “Where should we start, _sir?_ ” 

“We’ll start with the desk,” Porthos says simply, picks Aramis up, and pins him down over the papers. He knocks a candlestick down to the floor but neither seems to care in favor of kissing each other and tugging at their clothes.


End file.
